KISS Off The Enterprise
by wanderingchat
Summary: The Original members of KISS gain their Marvel comics powers and find themselves guests of sorts on the U.S.S. Enterprise during it's first five year mission under Capt James T. Kirk. A little known adventure in classic Treklore, until now.


_**KISS OFF THE ENTERPRISE**_

_**by**_

_**Wanderingchat**_

DISCLAIMER

The characters in this story are the property of Marvel Comics, _KISS_, Paramount Pictures and Gene Roddenberry. No copyright infringement is implied or intended.

This is a work of fiction and was written in 1978. It was originally published in the fanzine _'The Southern Star, Volume 5' _first publishing date October, 1979.

The rights to this story reverted to me as the author. The original artwork, which I could not reproduce on this site, was masterfully drawn by Michael B. Smith, a very good friend. The original editors of _The Southern Star_ were Rebecca Ross Hoffman and Cindy Sirmons-Hudson.

**Author's note**

This story was one of my earliest submissions to Star Trek, The Original Series fan fiction, back when such was published via mimeograph and sold by mail and at conventions. My, how the times have changed!

I wrote this story back in 1978, long before Peter Criss left the group and before the broadcast of the NBC TV movie _'__KISS Meets the Phantom of the Amusement Park_'. I started on it just after graduating high school and it was published in the fall of my first year in college, so we're really talking ancient history.

I have recreated the original story here. Unfortunately, I've been unable to get the illustrations (illos) to transfer from Open Office to this site. The illos rock to this day! If anyone knows where any of the Southern Star Staff got to, please let them know I'm out here. I miss all y'all.

I hope you enjoy this blast from the past!

ML

January, 2010

Indianapolis, IN

**FORWARD – THE BAT LIZARD SPEAKS! **

_Hello! (flap, flap!). I am the fabled Bat Lizard King, from the planet Morrisimmons II – Enough of that! _

_I pride myself on being a connoisseur of KISS (and Star Trek), having followed the boys since news of their conception leaked into the South via underground rock zines, early 1974._

_In June, 1978, I was privileged to meet (via Rebecca Hoffman), Myra Anne Emily _yes, that's me in real life, though I'm now Myra Lowe_, a fellow genius – (sorry) – a fellow KISSer! It was the Caitan (Cat People) queen meeting the Bat Lizard. We talked on and on during STAR TREK ATLANTA, and with a little noodge from her mom and others (including me!), Myra began the following story, which I personally loved! Myra asked me to illustrate it, and here's what happened. _

_Heads up, flaming youth! Hither cometh thy destiny! _

_Michael B. Smith_

_Spartanburg SC _

_June, 1979. _

Admiring the star he'd just finished carefully tracing around his eye, Paul Stanley greened reminiscently and turned to Gene Simmons.

"Hey, Gene, your idea of sneaking away to that STAR TREK convention that's going on here in town was a lifesaver!"

"Yeah," purred Peter Criss. "I still can't believe that the phaser I bought there is just a replica."

"Not to mention the spirit of goodwill and the peaceful vibes we picked up from everybody – especially since they had no idea who we really were," Ace Frehley added. "It was far-out!"

Gene smiled and nodded regally, accepting their praise as his just due. After all, since Peter's Lydia and Ace's Jeannette had stayed home, they'd felt lost. Then, one of the local radio stations had complicated matters by 'leaking' the location of _KISS_' practice locale. They'd been left with nothing to do except sit around their suite staring at the TV – which would have driven them stir-crazy. Then, Gene had noticed an article in a local newspaper regarding the STAR TREK convention and had discovered that one-day memberships were available. They had immediately and unanimously agreed to go – as their real selves, of course. Not one of them had regretted the decision.

They put the finishing touches to their make-up and costumes then trooped up the stairs to run a final check on their instruments. As they ran through their warm-up exercises, each performer's thoughts drifted back over the events of the day just past, and of the pleasure of being the fans instead of the celebrities. Because of this experience, they shared a bond with their own fans in the rediscovered feeling of awe at being in the presence of their heroes.

_KISS_ was more relaxed than usual before this concert; as a result, everything proceeded as smooth as silk. The concert was working out so well that Gene's fire seemed to shoot further, and his blood-spitting looked even more gory than ever. Paul's leaps appeared to be higher. Ace's guitar commanded more power. Peter's drums sounded better than ever before.

Ace's guitar accompaniment and Paul's voice took on a softer tone as Paul crooned the first verse of _Black Diamond_, the closing number. At the end of the verse, both lyric and music faded, to be replaced b a moment of complete silence on the stage that was suddenly shattered by the tapping of drum sticks. With Peter's command of "Hit it!" Paul, Ace and Gene's guitars burst into the heavy metal accompaniments of the song while Paul poured his entire being into the vocals.

Smoke belched toward the ceiling at the end of the last verse as another brief silence reigned supreme over the stage, punctuated by the muffled rumbled of thunder from a storm rapidly approaching the auditorium. The band swung into the ending measures of the song: One chord struck to every four beats of Peter's drums, descending in the musical scale with every second chord and slowing in tempo every eight beats. As the first chord roared from the amps, the platforms that the four musicians were positioned on began to rise slowly into the air in cadence with the chords, while confetti swirled all over the stage and all over the audience.

"Hey, Curly!" Ace shouted to Paul, who, though standing right next to Ace on their platform, couldn't hear him easily because of the blare of their music and the uproar from the screaming fans. "Wouldn't it be great if I really did possess the power the Marvel comic gave my counterpart? It'd be really spectacular for us to end this concert – and this whole day – by transporting off this world and materializing aboard the Starship Enterprise."

Paul shook his head and laughed at his partner's far out fantasy. "Oh, Ace, come down to Earth!" he shouted, turning his attention back to the fans below him.

Riding the crest of the waves of good vibes he'd been receiving all day; exhilarated by the still-present throbbing tempo of the music and the countless pulsations of power that emanated from the instruments, Ace jerked both thumbs over his shoulders.

The screaming fans never realized that it wasn't a part of the show when, as thunder crashed again and a flash of lightning illuminated the stadium windows, Gene, Paul, Peter and Ace faded away in a swirl of sparkling motes. . . .

. . . .the sparkling motes dissolved from in front of Ace's eyes to be replaced by a vaguely-familiar scene. He looked around, both relieved and somewhat unnerved to find that he wasn't alone. An equally-bewildered Peter, Gene, and Paul – sans musical instruments they'd been playing only seconds before – had come with him, just as they had done in the comic!

"Curly," Ace moaned to Paul, "What have I done?"

Chief engineer Montgomery Scott had been arguing with the transporter all afternoon. He'd spent three and one-half hours installing a new part and making other minor, necessary repairs to the mechanism. Then he'd received orders to beam Ambassador Sarek and Lady Amanda up from the planet Vulcan. (Time limitations had prevented the couple from taking the customary shuttlecraft.) The transporter hadn't wanted to cooperate with the new part, and it had taken quite a bit of cross-switching on Scotty's part before the diplomatic duo had finally materialized.

Scotty and Kyle had set to work, making a number of adjustments and running a series of tests ever since that incident. The transporter had worked like a charm the last three times they'd put it through its paces, but Scotty wanted to run one, final test – just to make sure. He directed his attention to one of the panel indicators then glanced up again when he heard Kyle gasp, "What in the -----?"

There on the transporter platform stood four bizarrely-clad, extremely-tall humanoids, their faces strangely-painted, their eyes reflecting various emotions as they stared at their surroundings – looking very lost at the same time.

"_**Gudesuke**_!" exclaimed Scotty as he reached for the intercom. "Scott to bridge."

"Kirk here. What's wrong, Mr. Scott?"

"That new part I put in the transporter. . .Sir, you won't believe what she just beamed aboard!"

"Bring it up to the bridge, Mr. Scott," Kirk said disinterestedly.

"But sir. . .?"

"That's an order, Scotty! Kirk out."

"Weel, I'm not too sure aboot this. . ." Scotty sighed, then his eyes glinted with mischief as he turned to face the four phantasms and chuckled. "Orders are orders. As soon as I call a couple o' husky security guards up here, yer comin' along wie me."

While the chief engineer had been talking to the captain, Gene and Ace had compared notes and had quickly deduced that they must be on the real Starship Enterprise. Immediately, they had informed Paul and Peter of their discovery.

As they stepped off the platform in response to the chief engineer's signal, Ace uttered one piece of low-voiced advised. "No matter what happens, just play it cool."

The bridge was humming with its usual level of efficiency when the turbolift doors opened and Scotty walked out – followed by _KISS._ They stood just outside the doors, flanked by the two security guards, while Scotty reported to the captain.

"What seems to be the problem, Scotty?" Kirk asked without turning from his interrupted conversation with the seemingly ever-present Dr. McCoy.

"Captain," said Scotty. "I think ye'd better see this yerself."

Kirk had heard that tone in the chief engineer's voice before, and he knew it meant something wasn't right. Even so, he wasn't expecting to see four, seven-foot-tall nightmares confronting him when he turned.

"Security!" he snapped as he rose from his command chair. "The bridge is no place for unauthorized aliens- you know that! Get them off, at once!"

The guards drew their phasers and closed in on either side of the musical group.

Gene, recognizing those phasers and knowing what they were capable of doing, froze. One of the guards shifted his phaser slightly. With ever-widening eyes, Gene stepped forward instinctively to get as far away from that phaser as possible, missed the step, plunged headfirst into the well, and threw his hands up to break his fall.

The next moment, he found himself floating over the heads of two very dumb-founded security guards. "What the Hell!" one of them exclaimed.

Hearing the voice speaking from directly beneath him, Gene looked down. Realizing what he was doing, he gasped, sending a stream of fire in Kirk's direction – narrowly missing the captain's head. Kirk ducked, not really surprised when a warm wetness saturated his trousers.

Understanding dawned upon Gene – an awareness that, somehow, he'd acquired the powers his Marvel comic counterpart has possessed. A sardonic smiled played across the Demon's ebony lips when he saw Kirk's problem.

"Allow me, Captain," he said as she swooped down to hover before Kirk. Before the captain could move or speak, the demon began to play a gentle stream of fire over the offending wet trousers, drying them in seconds. Even so, the heat of the flame was so intense that Kirk forgot his dignity in momentary anxiety as he clamped his hand over his crotch to confirm that everything was still intact.

A burst of hastily-smothered laughter from Chekov's station alerted Ace and Paul to Kirk's problem in time to observe the Demon's solution to it. They took advantage of the guards' attempts to capture the elusive Gene to wander past Lt. M'Ress' console and approach Mr. Spock's.

First Officer Spock had been watching all the activity from behind his usual mask of unemotional indifference. Now, he glanced briefly at Ace and Paul, murmured "Interesting," in a disinterested tone of voice, and turned back to the safety of his computers.

Feeling slightly rebuffed and insulted, Ace whispered a few words of explanation to Paul then stepped back out of the way.

"So! You're the cold-blooded, unemotional, computerized Vulcan I've heard so much about?" Paul exclaimed. "Let me tell you something, Pointy-Ears; if I really could wield the power of the Black Star, I'd----!" He broke off, surprised to find that he suddenly did possess the power of the Black Star. What's more, he was using it on Spock. "Well, all right, Mr. Spock! Let your human half go tee!" the Starchild decreed softly. "you have been submerging your emotions long enough; it's time that you find out just what you've been missing – especially what you've been missing by ignoring Christine Chapel!"

Mr. Spock, who'd turned to coolly put down the Starchild, never saw the beam that froze him in his tracks, for his eyes could not receive that particular color wavelength. All he knew was that an unknown force assailed his mind and body. Soon he felt a sensation of warmth in the region of his heart. Closing his eyes in order to suppress this sensation, he found an image of a certain, golden-haired chief nurse superimposed upon his eyelids.

"Christine," he moaned softly. Without another word, without even glancing at the bridge crew, eh walked to the turbo-lift and vanished from sight.

Peter Criss was oblivious to the events that had been taking place, for he was also still in a slight state of shock. One moment, he'd been playing his drums in the auditorium; the next, he was standing in a strange room, without his instruments. His companions' hasty explanations had done nothing except increase his confusion, so his actions were like those of a robot. Suddenly, he felt a surge of power flowing through his body, and his confusion changed to an overwhelming curiosity about his surroundings. Somehow he, Peter Criss, had actually become his marvel comic counterpart – the Cat!

He looked around at all the people and their strange looking consoles, taking it all in with a cat's sharp interest. When he saw M'Ress, his senses sharpened. Here was one of his own kind. Maybe they could be friends. Even though the Demon, the Starchild, and the Space Ace were with him, he'd welcome another cat to talk with in this strange, new world. M'Ress had been too busy watching the "entertainment" to realize that there was now another cat on the bridge. The security guards were still trying to capture the air-borne Demon. Peter glided silently to M'Ress' station and stood quietly until she finally sensed he was there and looked up at him. Their gazes locked, and communication was established, a friendship made. Soon, a very loud, low-toned purring rumbled through the bridge.

"Good Lord!" McCoy whispered to no one in particular. "He not only looks like a cat, he sounds just like a contented feline!" He glanced toward Spock's station to see what the Vulcan's reaction to all this uproar was – but the First Officer wasn't there. _What's goin' on around here?_ McCoy thought. _Spock's never left the bridge at a time like this before - not without good reason. . ._

By now, Kirk had finally managed to gather his shattered dignity together long enough to t hear Scotty's explanation. Immediately, he suggested that it might be helpful for Dr. McCoy to run a few tests on their "visitors" to find out exactly who or what they were and where they had come from.

Christine Chapel paused long enough to tuck a stray lock of hair behind one ear. Usually her hair was arranged in a neat, business-like style. Today, however, sick bay had been filled to overflowing with victims of the common cold, and she hadn't had a chance to sit down – much less take a break – the entire day. She came close to crying when the good doctor came in, followed by four, strange-looking creatures, and informed her that they needed to be given complete examinations – immediately.

None of the husky orderlies were available to help her at the moment, so poor Christine had to face the group with what help the security guards could give her. The first order of business was to get their names and other vital statistics recorded and coded on the proper tapes.

During the trip to sick bay, each of the four musicians had made a unanimous decision: Since each had actually become his own individual Marvel character, he would call himself by that name. Therefore, when Christine asked Gene for his name, his reply was, "The Demon."

Christine glared up at the bass-guitarist and tersely asked him to her his real name.

"I told you. It's the Demon-n-n-n-n!" he snarled, embellishing his words with his favorite Christopher Lee-style grin.

"Uh, is that spelled with one 'N' or four. . .sir?" She was a bit repelled by the Demon's evil visage, and she was equally nervous about the other three. Thus, she moved through the rest of the preliminaries with a speed that would have been the envy of her former nursing instructor, and she didn't bat an eye at the strangeness of some of the group's answers.

When she finally finished logging the last entry on the report tapes, Christine gratefully turned the group over to Dr. McCoy, then she turned toward the door and the promise of escape – or so she thought.

"Don't go, Nurse. I need your help."

The Cat, sensing Christine's apprehension, took steps to assure her that there was nothing to be frightened of. His soothing purrs seemed to be telling her that they, too, were as startled as she was by all that was happening to them – only they had different ways of expressing their emotions. In reality, they were human, too. He finally succeeded in soothing a bit of the edge from Christine's nerves, and she relaxed – a little.

Both the Cat and the Space Ace cooperated by sitting still during their physicals. The Demon and the Starchild were a little more active. When Dr. McCoy tested the Demon's reflexes, Gene responded by shooting a blast of fire at the wall, which melted the inner bulkhead. The Starchild, wanting to be friendly with the chief nurse, kept grabbing at her whenever she was in arms' reach and exclaiming, "Christine, I WANT YOU!"

The last test was eventually completed and recorded, and Christine was finally free to escape. Happily, she handed the group over to the care of the now very-alert security guards and made her way to the nearest rec room to indulge in a well-deserved sit-down, and a long-delayed nervous breakdown.

She'd just settled into a comfortable chair in the nearly-deserted rec room when Mr. Spock rushed in and headed straight toward her.

"Christine," he gasped. "I couldn't interrupt you while you were on duty but. . .I WANT YOU!"

Christine had heard those words spoken in the same tone one time too often in the past hour and had a pretty good idea by now what they meant. Even coming from Spock's lips, those words weren't welcome right now. Her suspicion-filled eyes traveled up the Vulcan's agitated frame to meet his blazing gaze, and her fears were confirmed. Springing from her chair, she dodged past the First Officer and fled from the room – a highly-excited Vulcan right behind her.

When Kirk received word from McCoy that the tests were completed, he called an emergency meeting of all the department heads in the main briefing room.

"Bones, have you seen Spock? We've got to decide what to do with our – ah – 'guests'." Kirk gestured toward KISS, who sat off to one side, flanked by two security guards, and looking very innocent.

"Not since he left the bridge during all the commotion up there earlier," Bones replied with a wide grin. "I remember thinkin' that something unusual was going' on."

If any of the officers had looked toward the Starchild at that moment, they'd have known just exactly _who_ was responsible for Spock's unusual behavior, for the Starchild was grinning slightly and winking at his companions.

Kirk sighed with annoyance. This wasn't like Spock. _Has it been seven years already? I can't remember. But, that the last thing I need to contend with right now._ He thought and snapped on the intercom. "Kirk to Bridge. Is Mr. Spock there?"

No, Sir-r-r-. I thought he was there-r-r-re with you," replied Lt. M'Ress.

"Well, obviously, he's not. Page him. I want him here on the double. Kirk out." Then, to the others, "We'll wait a few more minutes."

Little did Kirk know that, at that very moment, Spock was still hunting an elusive Christine Chapel, who'd hidden in the First Officer's quarters. She'd gone there because she'd thought that his own quarters would be the last place Spock would think of looking for her;' she'd be safe there for a little while.

Unfortunately, Spock walked into his quarters just a few seconds after she had dropped thankfully into one of his chairs. He started to sit down on the foot of his bed, then he realized that someone was n the room with him, and looked around to see Christine cowering in the chair.

"Christine," Spock groaned, advancing on the terrified woman, who'd suddenly realized that she was in the middle of a trap - too late. Just as the thoroughly-aroused Vulcan loomed before her, reaching out to enfold her in his arms, the intercom's all-frequencies signal began clamoring for attention. Then "Mr-r-r-r. Spock," M'Ress' voice echoed through the room. "Captain Kir-r-r-k wants you in the main br-r-r-riefing r-r-room at once. Please acknowledge."

Spock shrugged then reached out for Christine again, but the Lieutenant's voice interrupted him again; "Mr-r-r-Spock! Captain Kir-r-rk wants you in the br-r-riefing r-r-r-oom r-r-right away! Please acknowledge." The communications officer's voice held a tone of no-nonsense that would have sent even Dr. McCoy scurrying. However, Spock glared at the intercom for only a moment, then he turned to resume his unstarted business.

"Mr. Spock," Christine squeaked. "Don't you think you'd better answer? After all, the Captain - - -"

"The Captain can wait. I can't!" Spock growled as he reached out – only to be interrupted by M'Ress again. "Oh, hell-damn!" He strode angrily to the clamoring intercom and cut M'Ress off in mid-sentence. "I'm well aware that the captain wants me in the main briefing room lieutenant!" he roared into the intercom. "I'm on my way to the main briefing room! Spock out!"

Heaving a sigh of frustration, Spock turned and gave Christine an all-inclusive stare. "Stay here. We will continue this later," he ordered before he stalked out the door.

"My apologies, Captain," Spock announced as he walked into the main briefing room. "I was unavoidably detained."

The Starchild glared at the First Officer, who had schooled his features into an unemotional mask that revealed none of the surging waves of emotion he was experiencing within. Ignoring the fact that everyone was staring at him, he sat down gracefully.

_He's worse than ever!_ The Starchild thought. _ While nobody's looking this way, I'd better double the power and give him another dose._

And, again, the Vulcan was subjected to the power of the Black Star.

"Now that everyone is here, we can get down to business," the captain said, then turned to Mr. Sulu, who'd slipped in to join the group only a few minutes before Spock. The helmsman was not sitting beside _KISS_. "Mr Sulu, you give me the impression that you're about ready to burst with excitement. Would you care to begin this. . .discussion?"

"Begging your pardon, sir, I'd prefer to wait until later. I may have some information that could be of used, but I want to hear what everyone else had to say first."

"Very well," Kirk replied doubtfully. However, he knew Sulu well enough to realize that he had sound motives for his unusual request.

The captain turned to face _KISS._ "Where did you come from?"

"All four of us are natives of the city of New York, on the planet called Earth, Captain," the Demon said matter-of-factly.

Kirk's patience was beginning to wear a bit thin. He knew that neither the Earth no the New York City he knew could have deteriorated to such an extent that it could have produced anything like _KISS_.

The Space Ace realized that the captain was in no mood for games and decided to take matters into his own hands.

"The Demon's right Captain. We are natives of New York City, on the planet Earth. . . in the 20th century. We're musicians by trade, specializing in what was then known as 'heavy metal rock.' Our band, which was...uh...is called _KISS_, was – is – one of the best in the world."

"Just a few hours ago- in our time-frame – our entire day's schedule had been messed up, and we were left with nothing to do before our concert except sit around our hotel room looking at each other...or at the TV. Then Gene, the Demon, read an article in a local newspaper that a STAR TREK convention was being held in the city at the same time. We decided to attend. Nobody knew who we really were, and the events of the convention created such a good mood for us that we gave a really great concert. At the end of our closing number, I remember saying something to the Starchild, here, about wishing I could transport us all the U.S.S. Enterprise. I moved my hands the way I always do at the end of that number and...and then, we found ourselves here!"

"Hmmm. What is this STAR TREK you mentioned?" asked Spock, all-science officer now, despite the inner turmoil raging through his being.

"STAR TREK," Gene explained, "was the name of science-fiction television series that was based on the adventures of a starship named the U.S.S. Enterprise. That starship traveled from planet-to-planet all over the galaxy, seeking new life-forms and cultures. The ship was captained by a James T. Kirk. A Dr. Leonard McCoy and a Vulcan science officer named Spock were numbered among her crew members."

"The show was so popular," contributed the Space Ace, "That it ran for three years before it was canceled. Public protest started even before that happened, resulting in the show being renewed by syndication, even thought I was just being re-run. A side effect of that protest was a phenomenon know as STAR TREK conventions. People flocked to those conventions from all points of the globe to trade ideas about the show-among other things."

"Fascinating," Spock mused. "What is fact in one era may be fiction in another. Or, could this possibly be an historical backlash, a chance prediction by those 20th century Terrans? If these creatures are Terran, this event may support my theory regarding such possibilities, Captain!"

Paul shot another glare at Spock, thinking, _Good grief! Is he still unaffected - or does it take longer of the power of the Black Star to work on Vulcans? I'd better wait a little longer, just to make sure._

"Captain," Sulu announced suddenly. "The Demon and the Space Ace are telling the truth."

This authoritative statement caused everyone – including _KISS_ – to turn their astonished attention to the Helmsman.

"Would you clarify that statement, Mr. Sulu?" Kirk ordered.

"I'll be glad to, sir," Sulu replied as he stood up. "You see, there was something familiar about these people that kept nagging at me. When I went off duty, I spent about an hour going through a number of micro-films of old Earth magazines I own. Finally, I found the one that helped everything fall into place – a Marvel Special publication titled '_KISS'_. That magazine contained a fictional story with the four members of that band as the heroes. The magazine also included quite a few photographs of them, as well as a biography of each and a listing of the recordings they had made.

"One of the other magazines, which was devoted entirely to the real-life _KISS,_ contained a more detailed history and had a large number of color photographs. These people bear a strong resemblance to the ones shown in those photographs. Judging from what they've told us so far, I believe that they may be the bonafide, 20th century rock group _KISS._ I wanted to be able to make sure they are, so I compiled a series of questions taken from those two magazines – questions involving events so detailed and so ancient, to our era, that only the real _KISS_ – or some very industrious imposters – could possibly answer them correctly."

"That's very impressive, Helmsman. But how can you be certain that these micro-films of yours aren't complete fabrications or forgeries?" queried Kirk.

"You caution is understandable, sir," Sulu laughed. "But, in this case, it's completely unnecessary. There's no possible way that these micro-films – as well as a couple of tapes of original _KISS _concerts that I own – can be fabrications or forgeries. The tapes and micro-films were made from genuine originals that managed to survive the Eugenics Wars. Let me explain.

"In the late 1970's, _KISS _made a concert tour of Japan, and made quite an impression on that country's people. One of my great-great...well, many-times-great-uncles became part of the _KISS_ fan movement and purchased the two American magazines I've mentioned, as well as the live-concert tapes. He made it a point to show the articles to his oldest nephew...it became a tradition t hand the magazines and the tapes down to the oldest nephew in each generation. My great-great uncle had the magazines micro-filmed and re-recorded the tapes. When I was twelve, my uncle gave me the micro-films and the tapes. I've always enjoyed listening to those tapes in my spare time, and I've read the magazines so often I've nearly memorized them."

The group looked at each other in sheer astonishment. To learn that they had a fan in this era was almost unbelievable! Surely, with all this evidence on their side, no one would be able to disbelieve their claim!

"Please, Captain," they pleaded with one accord. "Let Sulu ask us those questions. Give us a chance to prove that we're telling the truth!"

Kirk held up one hand. When the group became silent, he said, "Permission granted."

_KISS_ responded with a loud, long cheer.

"Let me see..." Sulu began. "Cat, you wrote the first _KISS_ ballad; it was titled Beth. In what year did it hit the airwaves; what album was it part of; and who was the song written for?"

McCoy snorted with exasperation when he heard the last part of Sulu's questions. _What's the matter with him?_ He thought impatiently. _"Who was the song written for", indeed! That's obvious!" _

Peter's answer made the doctor feel more than a little foolish.

"_Beth_ was written and released in 1976, as the flip side to the single_ Detroit Rock City_. A broadcaster in the Midwestern part of the United States played _Beth_ on his station, and the song took off like a rocket," Peter paused, looking at the expressions of total incomprehension on the faces before him. "That means, the song became very popular. The song was also recorded on our _Destroyer_ album. I wrote the song for

my wife. She was – is named Lydia, but I called – er call her 'Beth' in the song because that name scans better."

"Right!" Sulu grinned. "All right – Demon. What did you do before you started _KISS_?"

The Demon grimaced with distaste at the unpleasant memories Sulu's question unearthed, but he suppressed his feelings of loathing and replied, "I tried teaching at Public School 75 in New York City – and hated it. I then worked at the Xerox Subsidiary of Bowker, Inc., Later, I became an editorial assistant – more like a head gofer – for _VOGUE._ That's a magazine."

"Right again! Now – Ace. How did you become the lead guitarist for the band?"

I saw an advertisement in the VILLAGE VOICE," replied Ace. "A group was looking for a lead guitarist. When I walked into this loft on 23rd Street and Third Avenue, I was wearing one orange sneaker and one purple sneaker. The other three guys were a little unsure about me – they said I had a spaced-out look about me ---"

"But his playing was fantastic! The Demon interrupted.

"Well," Ace continued. "They auditioned quite a few bad players before I came along. As Gene said, they liked my style, so I became the fourth member of their band."

"That matches the facts I have here!" Sulu confirmed. "Okay! Starchild! Who was responsible for picking the name for your group?"

"One day – this was before Ace joined us – Gene, Peter, and I were riding around in my car. Before long, the subject of a name for our band came up," the Starchild answered. "Gene suggested another particular four-letter name, but Peter and I didn't think it'd go over very well – though it was pretty catchy." Gene, Paul, and Peter grinned with a fond feeling of remembrance. "I finally suggested the name KISS, and everybody else really took to it. That word really means a lot. It's the first thing you do to a chick...or could mean the KISS of Death."

"Correct!" Sulu then asked each member of the group to tell a little more about his personal life, hobbies, real name, birth date, and birth place. He also asked each one to tell the name of the person who had gotten them started in the recording business. As last, he turned to the other officers. "Captain, in my opinion – based on their correct answers to my questions – these four men are, in Truth, the rock group KISS. They really have come from our past, our 20th century, and not from any other 20th-century-level planet of the this time. My questions were based upon facts gleaned from the history of that group's five-year-long journey of striving to become one of the top rock bands in the world at that time – as well as descriptions of their long career in that top position."

"You may have convinced everyone else, but you haven't convinced me," Kirk protested. "If this group is the real KISS from our past – rock musicians, in other words – how come this...this 'Demon' is able to fly and breathe fire?"

"I'm not sure if I can explain all of it, sir, but I'll certainly try," Sulu answered. "Remember I mentioned a Marvel book? According to the story in it, each member of the group acquired a certain special power: Gene Simmons, the Demon, could fly and breathe fire – just as his title implies. Paul Stanley, the Starchild, could control the emotions of others through the power of the Black Star he wore painted over one eye. Ace Frehley, the Space Ace, had the powers of an extraterrestrial being – including the power over matter transportation. Peter Criss, the Cat, had the grace and the agility of any feline – as well as the fabled nine lives of a cat. Some combination of forces must have enabled them to acquire those same powers in reality; either before or soon after they materialized aboard the Enterprise."

"Interesting," Spock mused, using the same tone of voice he would employ when vocalizing a computer readout. "But I do not understand why any male living in your time would wish to kiss the offspring of a barnyard fowl."

The Starchild was overcome with anger. _That does it! Okay, Pointy-Ears! Your asked for it! This time, you're getting all the power the Black Star's got! _ Again, since everyone's attention was focused elsewhere, no one saw when he turned the full power of the Black Star upon the unfortunate, unsuspecting Vulcan. _Release all your pent-up longings and desires, Spock! Be a red-blooded human for once. You want Christine Chapel, go after her!_

Within moments, Spock felt a peculiar sensation throbbing all over his body. He shuddered as another, more seductive image swam before his eyes.

Paul relaxed, confident in the knowledge that the Black Star had prevailed over Vulcan logic as he watched the First Officer writhing in agony.

The Starchild wasn't the only one watching the tortured Vulcan. James Kirk couldn't help noticing the First Officer's efforts to control his features, his efforts to remain motionless in his seat. The captain made a mental note to be prepared to head toward Vulcan at top speed at a moment's notice. _I know it's not been seven years, yet,_ he told himself. _But, who knows how Spock's Terran/Vulcan heritage will affect the Vulcan cycle?_ With these thoughts in mind, Kirk asked McCoy to give his medical report.

"Our visitors are in perfect health, Captain. Pulse, blood pressure, respiration, reflexes – all within normal, human ranges. Well..." he glared at the Demon meaningfully. "Some people's reflexes are more 'normal' than others. I _did_ find traces of carbon monoxide poisoning in their lungs and in their bloodstreams. That leads me to believe that they really do come from a 20th-century-style culture. I could not say that they definitely came from 20th Century Earth."

Unable to maintain control of his emotions any longer, Spock stood up. "Captain, I request permission to leave..."

"Yes, Spock," Kirk said quietly, as willing to let his First Officer leave before his emotions got the best of him as the Vulcan was anxious to go. "I realize you have other...duties. You may leave."

"Chase one of the females – maybe Christine – now, solve the problem of KISS later, I hope," he muttered lotto_ voice_ as the Vulcan vanished through the doors.

But the group had been close enough to hear Kirk's comment. The humor of the situation sent them into spasms of laughter that hurriedly changed into coughs when Kirk glared at them.

"Captain," Scotty said. "I have one piece o' information that may help prove the claim these lads are makin'."

"What is it, Scotty?"

"Well, sir, when I got back to the transporter room, Kyle told me that the mechanism hadn't been operatin' when these laddies beamed aboard. Since we didn't transport them here, it must have been the...the 'Space Ace's' own power that did it."

"Hmmm... It's possible, but we'll have to check it out," Kirk murmured. "I'll inform Star Fleet of the appearance of our time-traveling 'guests'. In the meantime, until they tell us what to do with you, we'll have to find you a place to stay."

It was decided that, for the present at least, KISS would be made special passengers aboard the Enterprise, instead of prisoners. This status would provide them with a change of clothing, comfortable quarters, and access to the unrestricted areas of the ship. "A security guard will accompany you wherever you go, strictly a precaution...mainly for your own safety," Kirk assured them.

In return, KISS offered to give a concert for the crew – if the ship's stores could provide all the equipment they would need...matching their exact specifications.

Though his doubts were obvious, Kirk agreed and promised to see what could be worked out.

When the meeting adjourned finally, Sulu was startled to discover that the group had chosen him as their "papa" in this era.

"Curly," Ace murmured to no one in particular while Sulu led them to their newly-assigned quarters. "When we give that concert, we'll remove any doubts they still have that we're not the real thing."

Spock literally ran to his quarters after leaving the main briefing room. Christine was not there. The Vulcan felt an increasing pressure against the front of his trousers and knew he'd have to do something about it – quickly.

Scotty was on his way back to engineering when the disheveled Vulcan rushed past him, nearly knocking the Scotsman over.

"Och!" Scotty snorted in disgust. "He's actin' like a capon that hasnae idea yet what has happened to him!"

The moment Spock had left his quarters in response to M'ress' call, Christine had left.

She went to Amanda and Sarek's quarters. Spock's mother had been a source of comfort to Christine many times, and the two had become good friends. If anyone could save her from this strangely-acting Spock, it was Amanda. The blonde chief nurse poured out her tale of woe to the sympathetic Amanda, and she was sipping a glass of very cold water when the door buzzer sounded.

Christine jumped and spilled the water all over herself.

"You poor child!" Amanda exclaimed. "You're scared to death! Who is there?" she inquired as she put a comforting arm about the shaking nurse.

"Spock," came her son's muffled voice through the intercom. "I must talk to Sarek."

"He's not here right now. Can you come back later? He'll surely be here by then."

"No, this is urgent. Let me talk to you."

"In a moment," Amanda ordered. She led Christine into the bathroom and told her to stay there until she could get Spock settled in another part of their quarters – if she couldn't get him to leave. "I'll try to distract him if he insists on staying and waiting for Sarek," she whispered. "When you think it's safe, slip out, then to back to your own quarters – and lock your door. You'll be safe there."

Becoming more impatient and desperate with each passing second, Spock was now leaning on the buzzer.

"All right, I'm coming!" Amanda unlocked the door and admitted a very frustrated Spock.

"Mother, I have an enormous problem," Spock began the moment the door closed behind him.

"So I've noticed," came her dour reply. "Why don't you come into the next room and sit down? It's quieter in there...you could try to do a little meditation. It might help you to relax."

Gently Amanda guided her agitated son into the next room and urged him into a seat, that conveniently had its back turned toward the archway.

"Shut your eyes and lean your head back against the chair," Amanda suggested. "I'll get you something to drink," she continued as she went over to program the food selector.

Christine, who had no intention of staying in the Vulcan's proximity any longer than she had to, opened the bathroom door and peeked out. No one was in sight, and the sound of voices told her that Spock and Amanda were in an adjoining room. Tiptoeing quietly, she made her way to the outer doorway, and freedom. Unfortunately, she was so upset that she'd forgotten how the corridor doors on this level made a loud "swoosh" whenever they were opened and closed.

Spock heard the door. Opening his eyes, he sat up and turned quickly enough to see a blur of blue-and-gold flashing out into the corridor.

Without a word, without a sound, he rose from the chair, then was out of the room, through the door, and after Christine – all without Amanda even being aware that he'd gone.

"Christine!" he exclaimed when he saw the chief nurse heading for the turbo-lift doors.

When she ignored him and increased her speed, rage swept over him so swiftly that he forgot about logic and reacted as any normal, primitive, aroused male when the female of his choice was within reach.

He was beside here before the turbo-lift doors had time to react to her presence, picked her up, and slung her over his shoulder. Ignoring the futile rain of blows from her fists against his back, he strode into the turbo-lift and commanded it to take him to the level where his quarters were located.

"Here you are, Spock", Amanda said as she turned with a steaming container in one hand. "I...? Spock?"

She went into the next room, but he wasn't there either.

"He must have gone back to his quarters after all," she told herself. The other few times when Spock's human nature had struggled to rise to the surface, he had done the same thing – sought her out, asked to talk to her, but then had left and had retreated to seek relief in meditation before she could do or say anything to help him. "No wonder Christine was so upset," she said softly, recalling how the chief nurse had trembled when she'd heard Spock's voice. "But Sarek would tell me that this is something Spock must resolve by himself – and he's right. Spock will be all right soon, I'm sure," she continued with a smile. "He's always been able to work things out for himself."

"Christine!" she called cheerfully, for the young woman's sake. "It's all right. He's gone. You can come out now."

No answer. Apparently, the chief nurse had succeeded in sneaking out before Spock had a chance to even suspect that she had been there.

The Cat stretched out luxuriously, pleased with his new outfit. The black pants and the black shirt made him feel like a big, powerful panther.

The door swooshed open to admit Gene, Paul, and Ace. They had changed into their own dark outfits, and they looked quite stunning – even though they'd each lost several inches of height when they'd shed their platform shoes.

"Well, what do we do now?" asked Paul. "Almost everything's off-limits to us. Whenever we venture outside a phaser-carrying guard follows us. It's weird!"

"Necessary precautions, Curly," replied Ace. "After all, if we learn too much, we might spill the beans when we get back to our own time and change this future."

"Well, what _I_ want to know is, how in the hell did we even get here in the first place?" exclaimed Peter as he curled up in the middle of his bed.

Gene detached his long, lean frame from the wall he'd been leaning on and joined the other three, who were now sprawled on and around the Cat's bed.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking since that night, Kitty-Cat, and I bet I have the answer," he said. "First, we were on an emotional high after attending that convention, and that helped us give a fantastic concert. The audience's reaction was equally superb. Second, there was an electrical storm going on outside while the concert was ending, and you know how those storms always affect our instruments. Those factors combined, then they joined with some kind of cosmic energy the Earth was passing through at the time----"

"You're on the right track, Curly," Ace interrupted. "But that's only part of what happened. You see, on top of everything else, I thumbed a ride and brought us here."

"You _what_?" the others chorused.

"You heard me. I guess those 'forces' Gene was talking about affected me first, giving me _my_ powers while we were playing _Black Diamond_. I made a joke to Curly here," he jerked his thumb at Paul, "saying I wished we could visit the U.S.S. Enterprise as soon as we finished playing, then I jerked both thumbs backwards, and ...well...here we are!"

"M-r-r-r-ow!" Peter exclaimed in surprise. "Are you trying to tell us that Fate had a hand in this?"

"It's not an impossibility," replied Ace.

"What about that 'Guardian of Forever'?" Paul inquired. "Do you suppose Star Fleet Command will send us back through it?

"I doubt it," Ace said almost mournfully. "If I understand it'd not be easy to pick the exact time we left the past. Besides, Star Fleet Command won't want to use fuel to get four people to the 'Guardian' when it would be much easier – and probably cheaper – to retrain us to live in this era."

"Pfht!" hissed Peter. "Not if _I _have anything to say about it! Isn't there _anything_ we can do on our own to get back home?"

"Not right now, Kitty-Cat," said the Demon. "But, don't lose hope. Once Spock settled down, Ace might be able to get him to help us. Until then, all we can do is just take things easy and not make more trouble for ourselves."

"Let's make sure of that by concentrating on performing the greatest concert the Enterprise will ever see," concluded Paul.

Work on KISS' concert equipment proceeded quickly and smoothly, for a while, at least. Ship's stores had followed the band's specification for the instruments and amplifiers to the letter, and KISS was quite pleased by the end results. However, when it came time to start work on the lights, logo, platforms, cages, and the other props, production came to an abrupt standstill.

"It's not that we don't have the materials to make these things," explained the supervisor. "It's just that none of the rec rooms are large enough to hold all this. I'm sorry"

Stunned and disappointed, KISS trudged back to Gene's quarters, where Sulu found them moping later in the day.

The helmsman had gotten into the habit of spending part of his off-duty time with the group, and he'd developed a strong liking for them. As the days passed, he'd learned to read some of their moods. The disappointed faces that turned toward him when he came into the room warned the Oriental that something was wrong.

"Hey, fellas, what's happened?" he inquired anxiously.

"Nothing much!" snarled the Demon. "Nothing – except that what could have been the most important gig of our career has been all f---!"

"Cool it, Simmons!" interrupted the Starchild, using the power of his Black Star to render the Demon temporarily speechless. "We're all mad, and we have good reason to be – but it won't help matters one bit to take it out on Sulu!"

Sulu gazed at them, totally confused. "Would somebody mind telling me what is going on?"

"We just learned today that our concert is to be held in one of the rec rooms, Curly," replied the Space Ace.

Sulu whistled soundlessly and sank into a chair. "Oh, no! Not even our biggest rec room is large enough for everything you use!"

"And without _all_ our equipment," Peter meowed mournfully, "we have no way to prove that we really are KISS!"

"Wait a second!" exclaimed Sulu, leaning forward eagerly. "What about the _sound_ of your music itself? That furnishes a lot of proof in itself."

"Any other time, I'd agree with you, Curly," responded Ace. "But this is a different situation. If we performed a bunch of songs but didn't accompany them with all our special effects, your Science Officer, your captain, and all the other skeptics would say, 'Sure, they sound like the original KISS, but they could be lip-syncing to Mr. Sulu's tapes'."

"You're right," Sulu agreed disgustedly.

An aura of depression settled over the room as the silent quintette sat staring at the ceiling. The question "What now?" was echoing through everyone's mind.

"If only...." Peter murmured.

"'If only', what, Kitty-Cat" queried Paul.

"Nothin'. Just a crazy idea."

"Go ahead and tell us," commanded the Demon. "'If only' _what_?"

"If only this ship had some area with enough space to hold all the equipment, a well as a big audience."

"Of course!" Sulu shouted and leaped from his chair. "I should have thought of it sooner! The shuttlecraft hangar would be the perfect place!"

A ray of hope gleamed in each band member's face, but they were still cautious.

"Wait a minute," Gene said. "Surely not even that hangar would be able to accommodate the entire crew. Besides, somebody's got to guide the ship, oversee engineering, and so forth – don't they?"

"Sure," Sulu replied cheerfully, not about to let even a Demon scorch his enthusiasm. "However, Uhura could transmit the concert via audio and visual channels to the personnel who won't be able to attend. All she'll need is a little winning over." When he saw the sudden gleam in the Star child's eyes, Sulu threw back his head and laughed. "No, my friend. Recruiting Uhura is _my_ job. But, I _will_ need your help to convince the captain.

"Well...persuading Uhura _would_ have been more fun, but I'll be more than glad to help you with your captain," the Starchild agreed.

"Gene, Peter, Ace. I'll need complete, detailed information on everything you still need," Sulu ordered. "I'll need facts and figures too – everything from the tallest amp to the number of guitar picks you use."

When the three huddled together to make the list Sulu requested, the helmsman turned to the Starchild. "Paul, I need to know more about this power of yours."

"What do you want to know?"

"Well, if you use the power of the Black Star on the captain, will it affect his command abilities?"

"No, for the Black Star does only what _I_ decree," the Starchild assured him. "I'll take great care to make sure your captain won't be affected in any way that would interfere with the safety and security of this ship and of her crew."

"That's all I wanted to know. Now, here's my plan...."

"You _what_?" Kirk shouted.

"Speaking in behalf of the rock group KISS," Sulu repeated, "I respectfully request permission for them to hold their concert in the shuttlecraft hangar."

"Why?"

"Because none of the rec rooms are big enough to accommodate all the equipment that KISS uses, sir. Not only that, I'm sure all the crew members that are off-duty at the time will want to attend the concert so they can see the group in person."

"I doubt that," Kirk grumbled. "Is all that room _really_ necessary?"

The Starchild stepped forward and handed Kirk a complete listing of the sizes, shapes, and necessity for each piece of equipment.

"That's an impressive list, Starchild, but it's still not reason enough for me to grant your request. I still don't understand why you don't just play a few selections and let it go at that."

"With all due respect, Captain," the Starchild replied, "it's vital that you allow us to use the hangar deck. If we're not able to present our concert in the exact manner that Mr. Sulu's tapes and micro-films have recorded, many of your crew members will refuse to believe that we really are the 20th Century Earth rock group KISS."

Kirk still wasn't convinced.

"I hate to resort to this measure, James Kirk," the Starchild said softly, "but your doubt forces me to do so." Pausing a moment, he took several deep breaths, for this was going to be a special test of his power, one that would take all his strength to make it work.

"James T. Kirk," he decreed as he cast the power of the Black Star upon the captain. "You _will_ allow us to use the shuttlecraft hangar for our concert, and you _will_ let us build as much equipment as we need. I've learned that the hanger measures more than four hundred meters. Therefore, you will permit all personnel who are not needed to guide or to protect this starship to attend the concert, in person, if they wish to do so. You will also instruct Lt. Uhura to broadcast the concert to all parts of the ship for the benefit of those who have to stay on duty but wish to listen." Suddenly Paul looked at the silent helmsman then grinned. "One more thing," he added. "Sulu's duty-roster is to be changed, so he'll be able to attend the concert." Finishing his instructions just in time, Paul swayed slightly, his energy almost drained, but he caught himself and managed to maintain an erect posture as he asked almost casually, "When will you inform us of your decision, Captain?"

Kirk stared blankly at the Starchild, trying to remember what they'd been saying...something about the shuttlecraft hangar. "Oh, yes! I agree with you. The shuttlecraft hangar's perfect. Permission granted. I'll issue orders so the necessary arrangement with ship's stores, engineering, and the communications officers can be completed immediately. Dismissed."

Paul and Sulu managed to suppress their grins until they rounded the corridor, then they both burst into triumphant laughter.

"Just wait 'till the guys hear about this!" Paul exclaimed. "Sorry friend; looks like you won't have a chance to 'win Uhura over', like you planned."

"I bow to my superior's better judgment," Sulu laughed. "Wait a minute!" he gasped as a horrifying thought rose in his mind. "If you can make the _captain_ do whatever you want...what about the rest of the crew?"

"Sulu, I can make _anyone_ aboard this ship do whatever I want them to," the Starchild replied proudly. "Spock was the only one who needed a little extra 'encouragement'" he added with a wide grin.

"'Spock'!" Sulu cried, halting in his tracks. "You mean – _you're_ responsible for the way he's been acting lately?"

Paul nodded.

"Why?"

"While I was attending that STAR TREK convention I told you about, I watched several of the episodes that were being shown in one of the ballrooms," Paul explained. "The TV Spock made a lot of cracks about 'human emotionalism' that I didn't care for. When I met the real Spock, he was worse – especially when he snubbed Ace and on the bridge. I felt he _deserved_ to be taught a lesson. Maybe he'll be more careful about respecting the feelings of us humans from now on."

"Wow! I sure hope the captain doesn't find out. By the way – thanks for making it possible for me to attend the concert; but _how_ did you know that I---?"

"I made it a point to find out. After all, it's the least I could do, after all you've done for us. Let's go find the others. They're probably sitting on pins and needles by now."

Once again KISS studied the detailed specifications for their sets and discussed them with the ship's stores workers. After Ace reassured the workers that the equipment would still be adaptable for other uses after the concert – that KISS wouldn't harm it – the workers threw themselves into the work and promised to have everything ready in three days.

Scotty had volunteered to work out the pyrotechnic fire-breathing equipment for Gene's illusions, but the Demon had arranged a secret demonstration for the chief engineer to show him why he didn't need to bother. However, Gene mollified the Scotsman by telling him how to make a pyramid of force that the Space Ace could use. Scotty also rigged up a lifting system for the platforms that would take the members of the band as high as was safely possible above the floor of the hangar deck.

As the group went back to their quarters after talking with the personnel in ship's stores, Peter whispered his concern to Ace. "Do you think it was wise to tell those guys that we'll only be needing that equipment this one time? We may have to make our living with it right here in this era."

"Quite sure, Curly."

"But, we need it to convince Star Fleet that they have to let us go back through the 'Guardian'----"

"Curly, I can't tell you anything more right now, but trust me. Don't worry about it."

Ace hadn't told his companions, but he had been working with a now-calm and controlled Vulcan science officer, trying to find a way that KISS could return to the 20th century without the help of the "Guardian of Forever."

Recently, Spock had uncovered an interesting bit of information. He'd found a newspaper article describing one of KISS' most spectacular concerts – the same one which had brought them forward into the era of the Enterprise.

Ace had read the article then had said, "We both know why our exit at that particular concert was so 'spectacular.' It was caused by the transporter effects that were created when I brought us here by making my usual gesture...." He started to demonstrate but had thought better of it. "Well, Spock, you get the general idea. Look! This article says that we were seen by a lot of people _after_ that concert! Does that mean we _will_ get back?"

"Yes," Spock had replied. "But your power of transportation will be the prime factor. It is strong enough to conquer the limitations of space and time. However, your heightened state of emotions, the ozone created by the lightning storm, and the reactions of the members of your audience contributed to your successful control of your newly-acquired power. In order for you to return to the 20th century, you will have to reproduce all those factors."

"We won't have any problem with our emotions or with the audience, I'm sure," Ace had answered, "but where can we find a lightning storm on a starship?"

"Perhaps chief engineer Scott can be prevailed upon to solve that problem for you," Spock had informed Ace.

"I still wish we didn't have to go to all this trouble," Ace had complained. "Couldn't you convince Star Fleet Command to let us go through the 'Guardian of Forever'?"

"That will not be necessary," Spock said calmly. "You know that Captain Kirk has informed Star Fleet Command of your arrival and that you are from Earth's past. He also informed them that my investigations confirmed that returning you to your own time would have no effect upon our era whatsoever. Star Fleet Command has given permission for us to use the 'Guardian' to return you to your own time – if we can discover how to avoid one difficulty. The 'Guardian' is located on the edge of the galaxy---"

"Which means, if we make the trip there, we'll be staying in this era so long we'd learn too much for our own good – and yours," Ace had finished the statement for him.

"Yes...although I would not have stated it in those terms," Spock had replied. "Duplicating the events that brought you here is obviously the safest method. I have already discussed this matter with Mr. Scott. He said that he would need more data, but he was certain that he could produce the ozone for the 'electrical effects' that you will require. He also wishes to know exactly when you will need this 'storm'."

Thanks to the discovery of the newspaper article and his subsequent conversation with the Vulcan, Ace felt certain that, somehow, when their performance ended, KISS would be back in the 20th century where they belonged.

Ace was relieved to discover he didn't need to worry about his companions' mental attitudes. Despite the enforced restrictions, Gene, Ace, Peter, and Paul had found many different ways to make their stay an enjoyable one. Gene's flying ability made him a most-welcome team member in anti-gravity sports. The crew had also learned that he could be depended upon to tell stories of the feats of "Conan the Barbarian", "The Incredible Hulk", "The Mighty Thor", and other 20th century comic-book heroes wherever he could find an enthusiastic audience.

Paul, naturally, had an eye for the ladies and was rarely seen in the rec rooms without female companionship. His warm and friendly manner attracted many of the yeomen, as well as some of the female officers – but there was never any rivalry among them, for Paul loved each and every one.

In addition to working on the transportation problem with Spock, Ace had also formed a friendship with Lt. Arex. Whenever it was possible for the two to get together, they would retreat to a quiet corner of the ship, where they compared their various philosophies of life. Ace also listened spellbound to Arex's self-effacing narratives of various interstellar experiences.

Unlike the others, Peter didn't seek out any of the crew members for companionship. He wasn't aloof, but he was instinctively cautious, and he preferred his own company. Before long, however, he did manage to find one kindred soul – Lt. M'Ress. As he'd suspected when he'd first seen her on the bridge, in her he'd found a friend. Sensing his homesickness, the feline communications officer saw to it that he didn't have time to think about it by taking him to many of the ship's exercise gyms, the entertainment areas, and to the herbarium. If nothing else worked, she told him of her home planet and about her adventures aboard the Enterprise. He, in turn, told her about his life on Earth, of his family, and about his adventures while on tour with KISS.

All these activities, as well as practicing for the concert, kept KISS so busy they didn't have time to worry about how and when they would be getting back home. By now, they were looking forward to this unique gig with ever-increasing enthusiasm.

The epidemic of colds had ended. Sick bay was finally back to normal, and the staff had resumed their routine duties.

McCoy was alone in his office, catching up on his medical logs, when the shrill door buzzer sounded.

"Damn! Somebody must have found another hangnail," he muttered. "Go on into the examining room!" he shouted, glancing ruefully at the large backlog of reports that still needed to be done. "Never a moment's peace," he grumbled as he rose from his seat.

"What seems to be the troub----! Good Lord!" The sight of the Demon, standing in a pool of blood that was literally pouring from his open mouth, jolted McCoy. Never before had he seen anyone in such terrible shape who had still been able to stand upright.

"Nurse Chapel!" he barked into his intercom. "Medical emergency in the main examining room!" _This would have to happen after I gave her time off to work on her research project!_ He thought as he grabbed the grinning Demon's arm and led him to a diagnostic bed. "Lie down! I'll have this bleeding stopped---"

"You won't have to, Dr. McCoy," Gene said and laughed harshly. "I'm in complete control of the situation."

McCoy watched in amazement as the stream of blood flowing from between the Demon's ebony lips rapidly dwindled to a thin trickle and then stopped completely.

"You see," the Demon explained. "I do this as part of my act during each concert."

"The why the hell did you have to do it in _here_?" McCoy snapped. "I thought you were dying!"

Before Gene could answer, Christine – apparently her efficient, practical self once more (except for a preoccupied expression and a secret wish to murder a certain Vulcan science officer) – rushed in and nearly stepped in the pool of blood on the floor. "Good heavens!"

"It's all right, Christine," McCoy assured her. "The Demon here had me believing that he was dying. Apparently, he was just playing some sort of a practical joke."

"I beg to differ, Doctor," protested Gene. "I was not playing a practical joke. I told you, I spit blood like this during one of my numbers at every concert. Our fans back in the 20th century know that this is only an act, and they've come to expect it. However, except for Lt. Sulu, and now you and your chief nurse, I doubt that anyone else aboard the enterprise knows of this blood-spitting. I thought it would be wise to demonstrate my act to you before the concert. Otherwise, you might have thought I was dying and stopped the show to give me emergency treatment."

"Hmmmmm. Well, your method was a bit unusual, but that demonstration was effected. Do you _have_ to keep that in your 'act'?"

The Demon scowled and nodded.

"Very well," McCoy sighed. "Then I think I'd better spread the word so the audience will know that nothing's really wrong with you – physically."

"I think that would be a very good idea, Doctor," Gene replied with another evil grin – for that was exactly what he' hoped this demonstration would influence Dr. McCoy to do.

"Christine," McCoy said after glaring suspiciously at the Demon for a long moment. "You'd better help the Demon get cleaned up before he leaves. He might scare some of the yeomen---"

"Christine won't need to help me, Doctor," Gene said regretfully. "I know how to clean this fake blood off without staining my clothes. A cloth will wipe away the blood on the floor, and you won't find any stains there, either."

"Call and orderly to clean this up, Nurse," McCoy demanded.

"Yes, Doctor," Christine replied, making a swift exit without another look at the gory Demon.

"Thank you for your understanding and for your cooperation, Doctor," Gene said sincerely. "I hope that you are planning to attend the concert?"

"Well," McCoy grinned reluctantly. "After hearin' everything Sulu's been tellin' anyone who'll listen, I think I'd kick myself if I didn't go and see all those things for myself. Besides, I don't have any choice now. Like you said, you'll need me to prevent a panic when you start spittin' that 'blood'." _The things I have to do to uphold the medical profession!_ He thought wryly. _I hope my ears will be able to stand up to the noise!_

"I'll make sure you have a good seat, Doctor," the Demon said with quiet dignity, then he rose into the air and flew out of the room.

McCoy stared down at the puddle of realistic-looking false blood that lay before him, then he raised his eyes upwards. "What next, Lord?" he queried.

The final rehearsal for the concert had gone smoothly – almost too smoothly, according to the old superstition that a good dress-rehearsal meant the performance would be bad. The shuttlecraft hangar had perfect acoustics, and Scotty's hard work on the rising platform, the lights, and the 'electrical storm' effects were engineering masterpieces. The platforms, the KISS logo, Ace's pyramid, the instruments, the amplifiers, all the equipment worked perfectly. By now, everyone was becoming very excited, anticipating the next evening's concert...especially those who had passed the shuttlecraft hangar and had heard snatches of music during the practice sessions.

Peter Criss had been feeling the same excitement and anticipation, but now he felt a need to be alone for a while. When the rehearsal ended, the Cat slipped noiselessly away and retreated to the herbarium. His favorite meditation spot was a tiny grove with trees and grass. He had gotten into the habit of going there to curl up and unwind alone; tonight, someone was there ahead of him.

"Gr-r-r-eetings, Peter-r-r Cr-r-r-iss. I knew you'd come her-r-r-e after-r-r the pr-r-r-actice ended."

"M'Ress! What are you doing here? And – how did you know I'd be coming here?"

M'Ress patted the ground beside her, inviting the Cat to sit down. When he did, she continued. "I'm a cat, too, r-r-r-emember-r-r. I had a pr-r-r-etty good idea wher-r-r-e you you would go when you left the hangar-r-r- tonight."

"'Where I would go---?' Were _you_ at the practice session?"

"Yes. You ar-r-re a ver-r-r-y good dr-r-rummer-r-r, Peter-r-r Cr-r-riss."

Peter's response to her compliment was a very pleased purr.

"Now, as I was saying," she continued. "I'm her-r-r-e to tr-r-r-y to help you."

The Cat's eyes narrowed with caution and wariness. "What do you mean, 'help me'?"

"Ther-r-r-e is something on your-r-r mind, and in your-r-r hear-r-r-t, Peter-r-r Cr-r-r-iss. You ar-r-re wor-r-r-ied about something, per-r-r-haps? Your-r-r fut-ur-r-re? Your-r-r-wife?"

"It's none of your business!" he hissed, his New York City background causing him to instinctively protect himself from intrusive questions.

"Calm down, Peter-r-r! It _is_ my business when a good fr-r-riend has a pr-r-roblem that is tear-r-ring him apar-r-rt!"

The two felines glared at each other for a moment in a literal battle of wills. Peter's eyes were wary and troubled. M'Ress' sparkled with anger as well as with a sincere concern for her friend. "Please, Peter-r-r, tell me. It will go no fur-r-rther. Tr-r-rust me."

Peter's last thread of resistance broke and he poured out his fears into the sympathetic M'Ress' ears. He was afraid that, despite Ace's predictions, something might happen to keep them from going back to their own time. He was afraid that he'd never get to see his beloved Lydia again. "Time and space are such unpredictable forces," he concluded. "Anything could happen – no matter how powerful that 'Guardian' is."

M'Ress remained silent for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was a soothing, calming purr. "Poor-r-r Peter-r-r! You've been wor-r-rying for nothing! Mr-r-r. Spock and your-r-r Spaceman have been work-r-rking non-stop on a better method to r-r-return all of you to your-r-r own time and planet. Our computer-r-rs and knowledge of time and space in this e-r-ra enable us to make almost pin-point calculations – ones that will put you wher-r-re you belong within a moment or two after-r-r you vanished...without using the 'Guar-r-rdian to do it. The Spaceman told me that he is going to r-r-recr-r-reate the events that br-r-rought you her-r-re and use them to take you back. He and Mr-r-r. Spock ar-r-re sur-r-re that you will r-r-retur-r-rn safely. After-r-r all, the final outcome lies in the Spaceman's power-r-r, and he's pr-r-racticed his skill car-r-refully. Ace asked me to tell you these things tonight. Since he is awar-r-re of your-r-r instinctive caution and war-r-riness, he thought that you might accept this infor-r-rmation fr-r-rom one of your-r-r own kind better than you would fr-f-fom him."

Peter sat still for a moment, absorbing all that M'Ress had told him. Finally, the Cat turned to her, his eyes shining with hope and happiness. "I believe you, M'Ress! I _will_ get back, and I _will_ see Lydia again! Y'know, sometimes a cat can be a little too cautious for his own good!"

They continued to sit beneath the tree and talked for a while, both aware, that after tomorrow, they would never see each other again.

"I will miss you, Peter-r-r Cr-r-riss. You have been a good fr-r-riend to me. I hope that you have gr-r-reat-er-r-r good luck with your-r-r car-r-reer and that you'll continue to be happy with your-r-r Lydia."

"I'll miss you, too, M'Ress. I can't thank you enough for helping me overcome my homesickness." When M'Ress cast a puzzled glance at him, he grinned and purred happily. "That's right. I knew _exactly_ what you were up to all the time. However, I went along with it...and I really do appreciate your concern. Listen, when you come to the concert tomorrow night, you tell anybody who tries to hassle you that I've had a front-row seat reserved for you. Got it?"

This time, it was M'Ress' turn to purr in contentment.

They still made no move to leave, enjoying their friendship, reaffirming the knowledge that whenever anything went wrong, someone, somewhere, would care. At last, Peter stood up and helped M'Ress to her feet. "It's getting late, my friend. May I escort you to your door?"

"Yes, gallant knight," was her response. "I would be honor-r-red to have you see me safely to the door-r-r of my quar-r-rter-r-rs."

Peter casually put his arm around her shoulders in an avuncular gesture of friendship while they walked to her quarters. When they reached the door, M'Ress turned to him and they both touched noses – a gesture of sincere friendship among cats – then she entered her quarters, and he retired to his own quarters to dream of returning home to his Lydia.

Captain Kirk made a general announcement to the crew, reminding them that, since the Enterprise was traveling in non-hostile territory, all off-duty personnel who wished could attend the KISS concert. Those who couldn't attend because they would be on duty would be able to watch and hear the concert on viewing screens, if they wished.

Long before time for the concert to begin, the shuttlecraft hangar was packed. A few crew members were filled with excitement and anticipation; most of the others were feeling only overwhelming curiosity. Despite the crowd, Gene and Peter had kept their promises: a very excited Lt. M'Ress and a visibly-dubious Dr. McCoy sat side-by-side in their specially-reserved front-row seats. M'Ress was telling the doctor about the band's music when the hangar door slid open to admit Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, and Ensign Chekov.

By now, all the seats had been taken, but several members of the crew started to stand and offer their seats to the two senior officers.

"Thanks, but we'll stand," Kirk said affably. "I'll probably be called up to the bridge before this concert even gets started."

The door opened again, this time to admit a rather hesitant Christine Chapel, who had received a personal invitation from the Starchild to find out for herself what the music of KISS was all about. For once, Paul had conducted himself like a rational being and hadn't grabbed at her with his usual "I WANT YOU!", so she'd decided to be a good sport and attend the concert after all.

She tried to edge past the senior officers, but Spock heard her. "There is enough space for you to stand here and see everything, Nurse," he said courteously.

She gave him a glare that would have burned asbestos, and then she made her way to the furtherest vantage point – away from him – that she could find.

Spock lifted his eyebrow as he watched her depart, piqued, and perhaps slightly amused.

"Fascinating," he murmured softly, intrigued by her definite hostility.

Kirk glanced at his First Officer, puzzled, wondering if he'd ever learn what had happened when Spock had been behaving so strangely immediately after the advent of KISS.

The hangar was suddenly plunged into complete darkness.

A hush fell over the crowd as flecks of light began to swirl all over the hangar, touching on the stage and making everything look snowy. Spotlights hit the two cages located above the stage and illuminated the raised drum set. There stood KISS, resplendent in their familiar costumes, wearing their platform shoes once more and towering over the audience. As the Cat took his place at the drums, Gene, standing in his cage, roared, "You want the best, and you got the best! The hottest band in the – in the galaxy – KISS!"

With Gene's shout of "KISS!", the logo blazed with light. The band started playing the haunting, rhythmic introduction to _Detroit Rock City_ as the cages carried Gene, Ace, and Paul to the surface of the stage.

"Hello, Enterprise!" Gene called, then he began to sing the lyrics of the song – which started the most unusual concert the Enterprise would ever host.

When the final crashing chord of _Detroit Rock City_ was finished, Ace immediately began to play _King of the Nighttime World_, another fast-paced selection. At the same time, the Starchild shed his long-sleeved, black leather, rhinestone-studded jacket, revealing a very hairy chest, and the outlines of a gracefully-muscular body.

The final chorus of _Nighttime World_ ended. The Cat blasted a "stripper's tattoo" from his drums while Paul strutted to the drum platform, plunked a red fire hat on his head, and then strutted back to his microphone. All this was to set the mood for _Firehouse_. During the second repeat of the chorus, the Starchild strolled back and forth across the stage, finally flinging his fire hat into the audience – where it was caught by a very surprised, but pleased, female ensign.

When he finished singing the last chorus, Paul pointed toward the Demon. All eyes, reluctant and eager, focused on Gene and remained there while Ace played one long, continuous chord; at the same time, everyone was also listening to the wailing sirens and were spell bound by the flashing lights. The Demon held up a stick and grinned evilly. Glancing at his partners to be sure they were watching, too, the Demon held the stick high. Without using special effects, he spat a ball of flame onto the top of the stick, then opened his mouth and inserted the searing torch into his throat, swallowing the blaze.

"_FIRE OUT!_" yelled three surprised musicians.

Until now, the overall response to KISS had been one of general uncertainty. The crew had heard the music of many cultures, and had no idea why this group named "KISS" was so special. However, as the concert progressed, more and more crewmembers found themselves falling under the spell that the group was weaving. By the time _Firehouse_ and Gene's fire-swallowing act were finished, a goodly number of the crew had become fledgling KISS fans. Even the die-hards reluctantly admitted that the band had something going for it.

Kirk, Spock, and a very elated Chekov were still standing near the hangar doors. Kirk had come only to fulfill his duty of "supervising" and "making the concert official". Spock had tagged along – just to supplement his scientific and historical knowledge. Chekov had been so visibly disappointed at having been assigned bridge duty that Kirk had taken pity on him. At almost the last minute, he'd given permission for the ensign to be relieved by one of the crewmen who had expressed absolutely no interest in the concert, and was willing to change his off-duty hours.

Spock watched the startling ending to _Firehouse_ one eyebrow lifted as high as it could go. "Interesting," he murmured at last. "But I fail to understand why everyone is applauding such uncontrolled emotionalism."

"Just chalk it up to another non-Vulcan characteristic, Spock," Kirk grinned. To his amazement, he was enjoying most of the performance KISS was giving – but he wasn't about to let his crew know it. "I've been wondering when Chekov would claim that KISS was 'invented by a liddle old lady from Leningrad'."

"O von't be, sir," Chekov said without turning from the spectacle. "Wussia vould newer claim anythng like KISS – but I vish she had."

_Pavel may have a point there,_ Kirk thought, turning his attention back to the stage. _I wonder what Sulu would charge me for a copy of his tapes...? I wonder how many crewmembers are making tapes of their own? Security will have to check afterwards; there's supposed to be only one tape made of this concert, and that's for our log!_

"We have a little treat for you tonight," the Demon snarled, proving that swallowing the fire had not damaged his vocal cords. "We're gonna' turn the microphone over to Ace Frehley and – SHOCK ME!"

Ace poured his entire soul into the song and was rewarded by a wave of good vibes that changed into awed delight when the audience heard and saw what the Space Ace could do with and to a guitar. Midway through his guitar solo, smoke began to pour from the instrument. Seemingly unaware of what was happening, Ace continued to play and walked to the right side of the stage, where he picked up a new guitar after placing the smoking guitar on his Cosmic Pyramid. He backed away from the Pyramid and then pointed at it. The pyramid began to pulsate and started to glow with a steadily-increasing brightness while Ace cajoled the new guitar into a variety of high and low-pitched tones – until both the pyramid and the guitar on top exploded into sparks. Ace, now reunited with the rest of the band, swept into the last chorus of the song, ending with a crescendo guitar chord.

"SHOCK ME!" yelled KISS – and most of the audience.

The band followed this selection with the songs _Makin' Love, Hotter Than Hell, Love Gun_, and _Shout It Out_. Before long, the rhythms inspired younger members of the audience to start dancing in the aisles and in the space before their seats.

The Starchild was the center of the attention next with his "I WANT YOU!", Paul really turned on the charm and sex-appeal that was at his disposal – with or without his special powers – and soon he had all the females eating out of his hand. His fantastic leaps and dramatic way of pointing randomly into the crowd drove most of them into an absolute frenzy. At the end of the song, he exchanged quite a few enthusiastic "I WANT YOU'S" with a willing audience.

When the Cat rose from his drums, walked to the edge of the stage, and sat down, the screams from the audience grew in volume. Quite a few of the crewmembers had heard about the ballad _Beth _and were anxious to hear it. Peter was holding a microphone in one hand, in the other he held a small box, which he placed on the stage beside him.

Sulu had been watching the concert from his special seat of honor in the wings, where he was supervising the official recording. Now he smiled proudly, "There's no doubt about it," he murmured. "The crew of the Enterprise have accepted my friends as the authentic KISS.." He smiled and nodded in response to Peter's signal, turned on a control for a separate tape player, and sat back in happy anticipation.

The crowd grew silent as the first strains of a piano filtered through the amplifiers. (The materials of ship's stores hadn't been able to extend themselves to furnish that particular piece of musical equipment – too delicate, and too cumbersome, even on a starship, when tapes served the purpose equally well.)

The stage lights dimmed as a spotlight bathed the Cat and the area he occupied in a circle of white.

Peter's voice held a deeper note of huskiness than usual. There were two reasons for this: he'd soon be returning to his _Beth_, and he was also saying a special "farewell" to M'Ress. His eyes met and locked with hers, silently inviting her to come up and join him on the stage. When she complied, he caught her paw in his hand for a moment, then he reached into the box and took out the single, perfect, pink rose that he'd gotten from Sulu just before the concert began. He took her paw again and held it while he finished singing the last verse, then he kissed the rose and gently laid it in her paw, covering it with both of his hands. "Goodbye, M'Ress, my good friend," he whispered in her ear, then he rose and returned to his drums.

M'Ress' eyes were so blinded by tears that she could not see to get back to her seat. Dr. McCoy, like the good, old-fashioned Southern gentleman he was, rose and guided her to her former place beside him, then he wiped away her tears with his hankerchief. He was the only one who heard her whisper, "Goodbye for-r-rever-r-r, my fr-r-riend."

Kitty-Cat settled behind his drums once more and the band started playing _God of Thunder_. Again, all eyes focused on Peter when in the middle of the song, , he began a dynamic drum solo. As the intensity of the drumbeats grew, the Cat's platform and drum set rose into the air, floated out over the audience, hovered there for a moment, and then slid back to their original position on the stage.

Next, the spotlights illuminated Gene, who was squatting down near the edge of the stage, flicking his long tongue in and out in time to the Kitty-Cat's drumbeats.

Suddenly a flood of crimson fluid gushed from between the Demon's grinning, ebony lips. Despite McCoy's earlier warnings, a few gasps of alarm rose from the audience - and a few squeamish persons came close to losing their latest meals.

As suddenly as it had started, the flood thinned to a trickle and stopped the, "Peter Criss on the drums!" a slightly bloody Demon snarled.

The Cat responded by banging a gong, and Gene's voice sounded like that of a real Demon's as he sang the last verse.

As one selection after another poured over the audience and echoed through the hangar, Paul's strutting, the flicking of Gene's tongue, the Kitty-Cat's compelling drumbeats, and Ace's demanding guitar-playing molded the concert into the most unique spectacle in the realm of music that the crew of the Enterprise had seen yet.

"Good heavens!" Kirk whispered wonderingly. "Don't they every stop?" But the question was purely rhetorical; actually, he was enjoying himself thoroughly.

After the finale of _Rock and Roll All Night_, the Starchild made one last announcement. "Enterprise, we love you! But...there is one person among you we want to give a special thanks to. He had undying faith in us from the beginning, and we'll never forget him. Mr. Sulu, WE WANT YOU!"

Sulu walked onto the stage amid screams and cheers from the audience and from KISS. Each member of the band said a personal, low-voiced farewell to their "papa", and then the group presented him with a beautiful, life-size, silver mylar KISS poster that they'd talked ship's stores into making for them. Each member had autographed the poster – with his true name, his stage name, and his "superhero" title, and each had added a special message, just for Sulu.

While KISS prepared for their closing number, the delighted Helmsman walked down and took the front row seat that had been reserved for him.

To Ace's great delight, the band was now experiencing an emotional high as great as the one they'd felt during the concert they'd been giving on 20th century Earth before coming here. This audience was also issuing good vibes at the same pitch the one on Earth had broadcast.

_Black Diamond_ was approaching its inevitable climax, and Ace felt power surging within him.

"Okay, Curly!" he shouted to Paul. "Here we go!" Closing his eyes, he jerked his thumb backwards.

A flash of brilliant light illuminated the four musicians as the smell of ozone filled the air and the sound of a crash of thunder echoed through the hangar deck, then KISS faded away in a swirl of sparkling notes....

The haze vanished from before the foursome's eyes to reveal that they were back on the stage of the auditorium in the 20th century that they'd left so unexpectedly. Ace, Paul, Gene, and Peter didn't hesitate, but began to take their well-deserved bows.

"Perfect timing, Ace!" Gene congratulated his friend.

"Yeah," Paul said, then shook his head. "But we've lost our special powers."

"That's true, Curly," Ace replied. "And I don't suppose we'll ever get them back that way again. But – who knows what might happen in the future."

"I wonder...." Gene mused. "Ace, did we _really_ visit the Enterprise, or was all that a mass hallucination?"

Peter didn't say anything, for he was too busy looking down at the small, wrought-iron Cat's Eye M'Ress had pressed into his hand while he'd been singing _Beth_. Finally, he looked up towards the roof of the auditorium, his thoughts winging across time and space in thanks to his friend.

Ace, who'd been silently watching all along, smiled wisely when Gene and Paul realized just what it was that Peter Criss was holding in his hand.

"That's right, Curly," he said when his friends turned to look at him inquiringly. "It really happened. C'mon, let's get out of there before those fans start chasing after us."

KISS turned to face the wildly-cheering audience, took one, last bow, and then triumphantly departed from the stage.

_**FINI**_

_(EDITOR'S NOTE: _KISS OFF THE ENTERPRISE_ was submitted and accepted long before either the KISS movie, or Peter Criss' separation from his wife, Lydia. Therefore, real-life events for KISS members and any Marvel changes in their Heroes version have occurred subsequent to the writing of this story, and such changes are not reflected therein.)_


End file.
